In The Embarrassment of Riches: An Interpretation of Dutch
Culture, Simon Schama gives credit to Henry James who wrote in 1874, "It is the
peculiar genius of the Dutch to seem, at once, familiar and incomprehensible.”
That, as I am prone to say, has been my experience. The Dutch exhibit a genuine
mystery through a seemingly shared temperament that speaks mostly to social
beliefs and personal behavior.
Here are two sides to the same coin: no one has ever
objected to help me when I ask directions or need help, yet it is not unusual
to hear some sort of qualifier. (Recently
in a grocery store I approached an employee.)
Excuse
me. May I ask you a question?
Ya,
but I am off duty.
Oh,
sorry; no worries.
No,
no, I will help you. What do you need?
Seems trivial, right? Maybe I just look for it. Familiar and
incomprehensible.
Here’s one that took me a little while to sort: the Dutch
don’t queue. (That’s what they call it—stand in line.) I am not talking about
lines like are formed at the grocery store check out or to buy movie tickets; I
mean places like deli counters or other places that Americans perceive as
first-come-first-served. Not here.
Don’t believe me? I learned real quick that if I approach
the counter at the seafood market and the clerk makes eye contact, I should say
what I want with no regard for anyone that might have been waiting longer. That
is simply how it works. You do not have to like it, but you better understand
it.
If I am waiting for the traffic light to change in order to cross the
street, it is not at all unusual for one or more persons to edge in front of me
so as to be closer to the curb. See? They do not queue.
The other day Gwaz and I
were approaching an escalator, as were others. Instead of waiting for us to
step on, a young man crowded between us. When I turned to speak to Gwaz, there
he was. Without making too big a deal of it, I’ll tell you what Gwaz said when
we got off. “Man, that guy was all up on you.” See?
 |
| Eating kibbeling at the Grote Markt |
Last one—the best one. I know of a place where food services is conducted by
a guy who is an independent contractor. In effect he runs a restaurant. This restaurant looks like most American cafeterias (well…like
the nicest ones anyway) with some very subtle differences, most of which are
orchestrated by what I’ll call Dutch heritage. When the food is served,
many people proceed to the hot food counter.
Let me set the scene. Try to remember when you were a kid. You slid your plastic tray along the tri-rail shelf as the kids received their grilled cheese and tomato soup one-at-a-time as a smiling,
hair-netted lady placed them lovingly upon the service shelf; am I close?
Uhhh…yeah…OK. Imagine a bunch of people approaching the same lady as the gang they are inclined to become. All of them
shouting and reaching and pushing their ways toward the front. (You're pretty sure I’m making this up; aren’t you?)
When I first saw this I was convinced that this outlandish
behavior is created by what is allowed rather than by Dutch culture. I
have changed my mind. It’s how it’s done. I think it’s rude, but then again so
is squeezing between husband and wife to get on an escalator. So is leaving a
full-sized shopping cart literally anywhere while you search the shelves for
the things you might want to buy, even if it completely blocks the aisle. So is
stopping on a crowded street or in the doorway to a restaurant or in front of
the tram doors for personal reasons like conversation or to look in ones purse
or pockets for something. So is taking your turn before someone who has waited
longer for service. But, it is what it is; not liking it or sitting in judgment
of it doesn’t change it. It only makes it seem bad; it’s not—to them.
Instead I struggle to remain who I am and how I was reared. So,
when I approach the seafood counter and the clerk makes eye contact, I defer to
the customer at the other end who was already there. Every once in a while,
that person will even acknowledge the consideration.
No comments:
Post a Comment